


Old Habits Die Hard

by Krykl



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:14:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28391496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krykl/pseuds/Krykl
Summary: There are habits that we pick up over the years.  They are hard to break and we often don't even realize it.  What kind of habits do you pick up after 200 years? 1000 years? 6000 years? Sometimes it takes someone with a new perspective to notice.
Relationships: Nile Freeman & Booker | Sebastien le Livre, Nile Freeman & Joe | Yusef Al-Kaysani, Nile Freeman & Nicky | Nicolo di Genoa
Comments: 4
Kudos: 69





	1. Nicolo

Nile struggled with the pink hoodie as she wandered into the kitchen of the Foxtrot safe house. The hood drawstring was pulled tight and knotted from the laundry.  
"Nicky, can you give me a hand?" Her voice was muffled by the cloth as she complained about Joe's laundry technique. Reaching up blindly, she fumbled with the strings until finally her head popped out of the hood.  
"Nicky, did you hear me?" She shook her head to release her braids and stopped in her tracks with the kitchen table between them. Nicky was chanting softly to himself. His head was bend over the counter with his back to her.  
" _Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo. Amen._ " he murmured.  
"Are you praying?" She straightened the hoodie coming around the table.  
She could see a long string of beads in his hand resting on the counter, his body blocked his other hand and the countertop. Nicky raised the hand with the beads, pointing for her to wait.  
" _Patner noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra._ " Nicky continued, not looking up, moving a bead down the string. " _Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris._ " he continued in the same rhythmic monotone. " _Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo. Amen._ "  
"Amen," Niles repeated without thinking.

After another repeat, finally Niles recognized it as the Lord's prayer in Latin from a visit long ago to a friend's Catholic church  
"Amen." Another bead, but before Niles could say anything, he started again, " _Pater Noster..._ " Niles shifted her feet, wondering if she should leave or sneak around him to find the coffeepot.  
"Amen." Nicky announced with finality. He set the beads down on the counter and turned around smiling at Nile as he depressed the plunger of the French coffee press.  
"Is the coffee that bad?" Nile teased. Nicky's smile skewed into confusion looking slightly hurt.  
"You do not like my coffee?" he asked looking down at the industrial sized coffee press. "I roasted it fresh this morning."  
"You were praying over it." Niles pointed at the string of beads on the counter.  
"Ah, the paternoster. Lord's prayer, 12 times for perfect coffee." Nicky set the coffee press on the table and turned to get cups.  
"I didn't think you prayed anymore. Andy said..." It was Nile's turn to be confused.  
"I pray, " Nicky assured her pouring. “I pray, but I wasn't praying for coffee. I was making coffee. Pour the water, 12 paternosters, press the knob, and it's ready." Nicky picks up the beads." This is a paternoster...um, a " Nicky searched for the word. "A rosary? Prayer beads? It helps me keep time. One paternoster. One bead."  
"You couldn't use a watch?"  
"I have only had a watch for 100 years. I have been making coffee for 500 years. " He held out a cup to her and she accepted it with greedy hands. " I like the coffee press better than boiling and I like my paternoster better than a stopwatch.  
"Okay Boomer," Niles giggled sipping the coffee. Yes, it was perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this post on tumblr. https://krykl.tumblr.com/post/631069213482696704/fun-little-thing-about-medieval-medicine-so
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	2. Old Habits Die Hard - Andromache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andy is older than forks.

"We're short on forks." Nile complains digging through another drawer. "Who sets up the kitchen in these houses?" Nicky looks up from his crossword puzzle.  
"Just give Andy a spoon. “  
"What? But we're having linguini. She can't eat it with a spoon." Nile moves on to the next drawer.  
"Then give her chopsticks." Nicky suggests, carefully filling in 7 down with "Petrichor" in pen. After a second pass on the drawers, Nile concedes and sets a spoon and chopsticks next to Andy's plate.

A few days later, in a new city, in a new safehouse, it was Nile's turn to do the dishes. She runs her hand under the soapy water and collects the forks, wiping them down with the scrubber.  
"There's a fork missing. Joe can you check the table?" She turns holding four forks out of the soapy water. Joe sets an empty platter on the counter.  
"No, that's all of them. Andy didn't use a fork." He picks up a dish towel and starts to dry the glasses in the dish drain.  
Nile stops and thinks about dinner. They had steak. She glances at the dish drain. Five knives. Four plates and a bowl. Dinner conversation had been amusing with Joe and Booker trying to outdo each other with more outlandish stories of the Booker's first years with the team to explain why Booker didn't use a sword. Andy had been waving around a knife with a chunk of her steak on the tip. She had bitten into a piece of it and then with a slick of her wrist, cut a piece off so close to her face Nile thought she'd cut off her own nose. So, nope. No fork. Nile lost the train of thought when Nicky decided to quiz her on her training at Paris Island.

It only takes a few more missing forks during clean up before Nile starts watching how Andy eats. She eats most things from a bowl with a spoon or with her fingers and a knife, even vegetables. Though to be fair, she rarely eats vegetables, even when Nicky tries to hide them in other dishes or drown them in cheese. She'll use chopsticks for noodles or her fingers even if there is a sauce. Often, she eats a whole meal with just a knife and her fingers. After a few weeks, Nile is certain that Andy has never used a fork in her presence. She starts making sure that there is always a fork at Andy's place or one stuck in her dish when she hands it to her. It always comes back unused.

"Booker." Nile asks, once again at the kitchen sink on dish duty. Booker looks up from scrubbing the burnt-on sauce from the pan. "Does Andy ever use a fork?”  
“Yeah, she killed a guy in Zurich in 1970 with a fork during a bar fight.” He says, not pausing from the sink. Nile considers that answer.  
“No, I mean for eating.” She says.  
Booker pauses a moment and screws up his forehead. He makes a face.  
“I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve ever noticed one way or another.” He admits.  
Nile huffs in annoyance.  
“I’ve been watching her. She eats with a knife or a spoon.” Nile said with certainty. "or her fingers." She adds. "Everyone else uses forks." She wasn’t going to admit to notes that she kept on her phone.  
“Noodles?” Booker asks, “We had linguine the other day.”  
“Chopsticks and a spoon.”  
“American BBQ on Tuesday?”  
“Fingers and a knife.”  
"Cous-cous and tagine?”  
“Fingers and spoon.”  
"Chinese..."  
"No, everyone used chopsticks, except you. You know how to use them don't you?"  
“Cake?” Booker offers to keep the subject on Andy.  
“No idea, she inhaled two pieces so fast I hadn’t even served Joe yet.” Nile admits.  
Booker drops the pan back into the soap water and stares off into the distance, his brow scrunched.  
“That can’t be right.”  
Niles pulls out her phone and types in a quick search.  
“Forks were only used for serving and cooking and were not commonly used at the table until the 10th century throughout the Middle East. Before then it was common to only use fingers, a spoon, and a sharp pointed knife.” She reads off a culinary history website. “So Andy is older than forks.” Nile concludes. Booker shrugs.  
“So, Andy’s older than table manners.” Booker adds. “There are many cultures that don't use forks. If she isn’t using a fork now, she never will.”  
“What about napkins?” Nile asks noticing a greasy smear on the tablecloth.


	3. Old Habits Die Hard - Booker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not a night gown, it's a night shirt...

Nile drops her bag on the bare mattress and then flops down spread eagle beside it. She sits up and takes in the room. Her room, a room of her own with one bed, her bed, and door. Her own room with her own bed and her own door. Andy has declared it safe and they won't even have watches tonight.

"Clean sheets," says Nicky in the doorway. He's balancing a set of new sheets and a duvet with a couple of pillows under his arm. "The towels are in the wash." He waits in the doorway holding the pile out.

"Welcome to MY room." Nile announces throwing open her arms and again flopping back on the mattress. She pushes herself up on her elbows and smiles. 

"I am sorry that you have had to wait so long to have your own room." Nicky says stepping in and setting the linens on the dresser. "Most of our houses are not this big." Nile laughs.

"I haven't ever had a room of my own." Nile admits. "I shared with my brother until joined up and then well..." she shrugs. "Barracks ever since." 

"I have never had my own room." Nicky admits.

"What?"

"I had brothers and we shared a bed too. Then in the seminary, we slept in common rooms. When I went to war we shared tents or barracks. Then after Joe and I ..," Nicky's voice trailed off and Nile had the privilege of watching a 900-year old man blush. " He ducks his head and hurries out with a "Dinner is at 6:30 in the garden," over his shoulder.

That night, after a veritable feast and too much wine, Nile closes the door of her room and contemplates what to wear to bed. For the first time in her life, she can wear anything...or nothing at all.  
"My room, my rules." Intrigued by the idea of sleeping naked, Nile strips out of all of her clothes and slips under the clean new sheets and blankets. It's a weird sensation to have nothing between her skin and the sheets. She twists around trying to find a comfortable position and drifts off to sleep.

In the middle of the night, she bolts upright wide awake. She lay there a long time staring up at the lights from the moonlight on the ceiling. It was so quiet. She can't sleep. Maybe a glass of milk, she thinks, kicking off the blankets and hopping out of bed.  
"Oh." She remembers she's naked, and though she is pretty sure that no one in the house would bat an eyelash if she were to walk around buck nekkid, that wasn't gonna happen. So there's a downside to no jammies. She pulls on a t-shirt and fleece pants and heads for the kitchen. Maybe she would get a robe for these midnight kitchen raids.

She makes her way in the dim light through the living room, the kitchen was lit by the light of the open refrigerator. It is Booker...Booker wearing a blue and white striped nightgown with his hairy legs sticking out under the hem, and a matching Santa hat.

"Booker, what the hell are you wearing?" says Nile before she could stop herself. Booker emerges from behind the refrigerator door with a chunk of chicken and a bowl of Nicky's homemade pasta.

"What?" "What's up with the granny nightgown and the...what is that thing on your head?" Nile covers her mouth trying to not laugh.

"A sleep shirt." Booker whips the hat off his head. "and a night cap. It keeps my head warm."

" I thought a nap cap was a drink." Nile tries not to look at his knobby knees and satin-slippered feet. 

"Hungry? Some of the chicken left," says Booker holding out the chicken in an attempt to change the subject.

"Ah, no thanks." Nile mumbles "G'night" before retreating to her room.

At breakfast the next morning, everyone emerges from their rooms lured by the smell of waffles and bacon. Nicky is already in the kitchen cooking in sweats and his ever present hoodie. Joe sits crumbled over one end of the table in a tank top and boxers. Andy is wearing a bright red silk kimono with a lot of bare leg showing, stealing bacon directly from the pan, and cradling a cup of coffee with a deathgrip.

Nile, comfortable in her t-shirt and fleece pants, gratefully pours herself a cup of coffee. She had forgotten Booker's sleep wear until he shuffles in wearing a blue silk robe over the nightgown, um sleep shirt, and still wearing the night cap.

" I ask the same thing I asked last night. What are you wearing?" Nile asks. Booker looks down at himself.

"It was fashionable." Booker defends. "...and comfortable."

"If you are like in a Regency romance movie or something..." Nile snorts hiding her laugh behind her coffee cup.

"He kinda was..." Nicky admits setting a pan of scrambled eggs on the table. Nile spit takes her coffee and quickly compares dates in her head. Regency Era was 1795 to 1820. Booker died in 1812.

"Um, sorry." Nile mumbles. "I like your slippers."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for following along these silly musings. Do you have any head canons of habits that the team hasn't let go of after hundreds of years?


End file.
